Archive of Our Own ^beta

Eddie’s fingers slip easily under the lip of the vinyl window sash. Steve’s parents had just gotten all the windows replaced and it glides up easily, without a sound. Eddie marvels every time; he’s never known a window that didn’t put up a fight, that wasn’t broken or rusted shut or about to fall out.

Steve’s window is like a portal into another world, a world that wraps Eddie in fresh air conditioning and the smell of a house where someone cleans and puts out potpurri. Steve is still asleep, even with the sun high in the sky overhead, even with Eddie letting his sneakers fall onto the carpet, unbuckling his belt.

He’s been off of work for maybe an hour. The job is seasonal, because there’s more trash in the spring and summer. Eddie’s not sure if Hawkins’ Public Works would ever hire him, the town Satanic cultist, full time, even after the government and the newspaper cleared his name. He’s not sure how long he’d want to be the garbageman anyway, but the pay is good, he’s always finding some wicked free shit, and he’s done working every morning with enough time to eat, shower, and break into Steve Harrington’s bedroom before noon.

Steve’s parents are never around. They travel; they’re salespeople and they’re constantly out of the state. Steve says one of the reasons they picked Hawkins to settle down is that it would be safe for their kids, when they were old enough to be left on their own. Steve wasn’t safe, but it wasn’t their fault. The fact that Steve is an only child just seems to place an echo on the loneliness Eddie can feel coming off of him in waves. Eddie, who doesn’t have any real memories of his parents, honestly wonders if it’s better to have a mom and dad, to know them and to live with them, if it’s just going to be like this. Eddie’s uncle doesn’t have a nice place or a lot of time to hang out, but there is love there, and he can sense the lack of that love pouring out from Steve’s entire clean, modern house. It’s no wonder Steve lived like he did in high school–like Hawkins High was everything, all that anyone should care about. If anyone ever visited the house, they’d see what was left for Steve outside of high school. It’s sad, but what they’ve been doing lately–it’s improved the place tremendously.

They’ve been doing this, and it started with Eddie just wanting to hang out, just hating to be alone during the day. This was before he really knew the nuts and bolts of Steve Harrington, but still, the kids had school, and if he had to be around adults it felt better to be around someone who knew the whole truth, knew what it had been like and would never have mentioned the earthquake or the coverup story that didn’t happen–even if they didn’t talk much, even if neither of them talked about it at all. At one point, before they knew each other like this, before they kissed or touched or did anything, Eddie would have just shaken Steve awake, thrown a shirt at him and demanded they do something distracting. Now, Eddie’s toeing across the carpet, wearing only underwear and a Dio t-shirt with the sleeves cut off and he’s slipping feet first between the cool sheets, seeking Steve’s warm body with his.

Steve sleeps on his stomach, and Eddie feels the soft brush of his calf before anything else, then slips a hand over the sprawl of his back, finding the down hair just over the waistband of his underwear.

“Eddie,” Steve says, and it’s not a question, though his eyes are still closed, “Hey.”

Eddie covers the side of Steve’s body with his own, wrapping a leg around his thighs.

“Hello, Steven,” he says, “I have a special delivery.”

Steve hums in half sleeping assent and reaches for Eddie’s hip, grasping him closer before rolling a hand down to cup Eddie’s ass. “I’ll say. Are you off early?”

“No,” Eddie laughs, “It’s noon. You’re just a lazy shit, Harrington.”

“Don’t be a jackass,” Steve says, but he’s smiling.

He rolls toward Eddie, who pulls him closer. Steve covers his mouth, morning breath and just the beginnings of a rough stubble suffusing Eddie with warmth. He’d smoked a cigarette on the way here, knowing that Steve loves the taste of him like this, in the morning, the first thing his mouth touches. If Eddie smokes in public, he grimaces, like he can’t stand the idea, but he wants the taste, the knowledge that someone like Eddie has made Steve his own. Eddie smokes and he drinks and he sells drugs on the side and Steve belongs to him.

They haven’t talked about it. Eddie has known he likes boys like this since he knew what it was like to want someone. He’s never felt a girl up close, never wanted to. Steve had girlfriends, before all of this. Steve loved Nancy, in another life. In another world, Eddie wouldn’t even know him, but in this world, Eddie loves him.

He barely touches it, in his mind, the fact that he loves Steve. It’s big, and dangerous, and he settles for living around the fact like it’s a fire in what was once a cold, dark room. He fell for him in little winks and nods Steve gave him, encouragement of Eddie’s touches, smiles, jokes, all of it feeding the fire until suddenly he couldn’t live without Steve’s humor and kindness and down-to-Earth affection.

Eddie pulls forward and kisses him again, not believing how natural it feels just to taste him. Other guys he’s kissed, single-time guys he barely knew, the taste of them was something to avoid, something to ignore in favor of the task at hand. Even first thing in the morning, stale and sticky, Steve tastes good, and he can’t even describe it, it’s like something made in a lab just for him, to calm him down and hold him still. Throughout his childhood, throughout six years of high school, it was just here waiting for him, the last place he’d look. The last person he would ask.

Steve pushes toward him and they’re both hard; it’s so easy to come into this room and become hard immediately, just in anticipation of what it’s going to feel like to be with him. Steve’s skin is so warm and relaxed from sleep. Eddie palms one of his shoulder blades and kisses Steve’s shoulder, letting his nose brush the bit of hair sticking out from under his arm.

“Looks like you’ve got something for me,” he murmurs, feeling Steve from the outside of his underwear before slipping a hand inside to hold him, the hot, soft skin of him stretching over his cock, hard as iron. He scoots down Steve’s body, letting his lip drag over his nipple, his stomach. He can smell the inside of Steve’s boxers and it’s making him salivate, thinking about getting his cock in his mouth, letting the soft glans rub over the back of his throat, tasting the salty, sleep-warm skin.

“Why are you wearing this? Get this off,” Steve says, pulling at Eddie’s shirt. Steve slept in his underwear, and Eddie has been working on him, trying to convince him to sleep naked so that Eddie can wake him up with his mouth. Eddie smiles and allows Steve to strip his shirt off, but then Eddie shoves him to lie on his back, easier to pull off his underwear and watch his cock spring up and slap his belly. Eddie gets a thrill out of watching that, every time, how hard Steve gets for him, and he laughs with a childish lilt.

“My little slut,” he says, grinning. “Look at how hard you are. Look at how hard you are for me.”

Steve throws an arm over his eyes, and Eddie knows he’s embarrassed. The flush over his belly and his cock is a dark pink. He doesn’t like talking about it. He’s always blushing, always pretending not to hear him, but Eddie knows he loves to hear it, and can see him leaning closer and smiling anyway.

Eddie loves talking about it.

“You’re so pink,” he says, jamming his face between the root of Steve’s dick and his thigh, breathing in the clean musk of him.

“God, you smell so good. Let me taste this,” Eddie says, and swallows him, and it’s easy, the curve of him hugging Eddie’s palette, warm and pulsing. He moans and Steve’s breath hitches; he feels Steve’s hand in his hair, his hips thrust forward. His tongue is laving under Steve’s cock, letting it slip in deeper in short, shallow thrusts. This is the first thing they ever did after touching each other; Eddie couldn’t wait to watch him laid out like this, to feel Steve throbbing in his mouth.

Eddie’s elbows bracket Steve’s thighs and he knows no girl has ever held him down like this while sucking his dick, has never gripped his ass like this while swallowing him over and over. The rush of possession overcomes him and he wants to swallow Steve completely, to live always with the feeling Steve gives him. He could write songs about this feeling–soft, perfect Steve Harrington, so outgoing, so charming, rendered mute and helpless in the pleasure of Eddie’s mouth.

“Fuck, Eddie,” Steve says, and Eddie wonders if he’s been trying to get his attention, “I’m going to come so fast if you keep doing this,” and it’s obvious he means it; his hips are quivering; his hands are white where they’re gripping Eddie’s arms. He doesn’t want to come, and Eddie knows why.

Eddie draws back, letting Steve’s spit shiny cock slip from his mouth, and he’s panting and drooling a bit.

“You don’t wanna come, baby?” he asks, crawling up Steve’s prone body and settling over the flat plane of his chest. He tucks his face in Steve’s shoulder, breathing in Steve’s ear. Steve always asks for the same thing, but he never tires of hearing it. Every time Steve admits he wants him, he feels a new rush of possession–warmth and security in the knowledge that Steve is his, his, his.

Steve wraps his arms around Eddie’s shoulders, his heart still hammering. Eddie can hear his pulse echoing through the chamber of his throat. Eddie is lying over him entirely, covering Steve’s body the way Steve likes, the way he asks for at night, when it’s quiet and Steve can’t sleep.

“You know what I need,” Steve says, and he is smiling just a little bit, just enough to hide how much he really does need it. His hands are touching Eddie’s stomach.

“Yeah, I know,” Eddie says, his hand in Steve’s hair, “I know what you need.”

Eddie’s dick has never popped up to touch his belly, not like Steve’s does. He’s got a big dick; it’s thick and heavy, and even when he’s as hard as Steve makes him, his cock still hangs low and drooping with the weight. The first time Steve touched it, it was still under Eddie’s clothes, but when Steve wrapped a hand around him, he had this disbelief painted on his face, his big dark eyes wide and blinking. It’s one of Eddie’s favorite memories, not out of pride in himself, but what he could do to Steve, who’s seen everything, so much more than Eddie’s seen.

Then the first time they did this–they couldn’t. They’d worked up to it, and they wanted each other so badly, but Eddie was big and Steve was so, so tight and so new at it, unable to relax and let him in. It hurt, pushing in, and he knew Steve hurt too, so they couldn’t do it. They ended up using the lube to jerk each other off and laughing at themselves, finding a movie and getting drunk on cheap beer, falling asleep wound around one another.

Then later, they tried again. They knew they had to relax and Eddie shotgunned a cloud of something excellent into Steve’s mouth and sucked him off first, making sure he was as warm and languid as the heat of the summer. Steve laid on his belly, breathing deep and even, while Eddie slowly worked his way in, trembling with his whole body and trying to only move just a centimeter at a time. When he was in, really in, Steve exhaled slowly and it turned into a sighing moan, like he’d never felt anything as good in his life. He seemed almost catatonic–drooling on the pillow, peaceful, looking blown out of his mind with his eyes half shut. He was so tight and hot, moaning so hard. Eddie came in seconds.

Now they’re well practiced; Eddie is holding the cap of the lube in between his teeth while making sure he has enough to make Steve really wet, wet enough to open for him. His middle and index finger slip past a familiar ring of muscle and he begins working it in a circle, feeling Steve relax around him.

“How are you still so tight?” he asks, “How many times am I going to fuck you before you’re just wet and open for me all the time, Harrington?”

“I’m not sure it works that way, Munson,” Steve says, looking at him with those big eyes, like a doe’s eyes. Steve’s skin is just a shade darker than his, his eyes just a shade lighter.

“Sure it does,” he says, “I know you want to come around my dick, Harrington. You just have to let me in. You just have to let me give you what you need.” He licks the side of Steve’s neck, up to his ear, nudging the shell of it into his mouth. “I wish I had you like this in school. My tight little slut.”

“You didn’t look twice at me in school,” Steve says. His heart is still hammering.

“You don’t know that,” Eddie says, “You don’t know what I thought about you. I’d have killed to see you like this. You’re so perfect.”

“You hated perfect,” Steve says, and he’s right, but he’s pushing down onto Eddie’s hands, gripping Eddie’s thigh like he could grind into it if he tried.

“Because I couldn’t have it. I thought I couldn’t have it. If I knew, if I knew you like this, you’d have been mine every day, Harrington. Would you like that? Waking up like this before school? Laid out for me after basketball practice? I’d fill you up and make you take my load to chemistry class. Nobody would know but you and me. Nobody would know you belong to me.”

“Eddie, fuck, please,” he says, and he’s ready.

“Please?” Eddie says, and he loves this, loves making him say it.

“Please, fuck me. Please, I want it.”

“Yes, sir,” Eddie says, and breaks away to get on his knees, slicking himself up with what’s left of the lube on his hand.

Steve turns on his side, “Fuck me this way,” he says, gesturing for Eddie to get behind him.

“You’re so fucking lazy, Harrington.”

“I just woke up,” he says, but Eddie knows why he likes it like this: on their sides, spooning. He likes to be held when they fuck, pulled close to Eddie’s chest.

Eddie holds Steve’s hip while he lines up and slips around Steve’s asshole, just to tease them both. He likes the feeling of touching without penetrating, could probably do it for hours if he didn’t have this sense of urgency in him, this feeling like if he doesn’t get into Steve soon he might die.

So he does, gripping Steve’s hip and feeling the head of his cock slip into him. Steve’s breath catches a little, and he can feel Steve clench around the head of him before purposefully relaxing around him. It always gives Eddie the feeling that he shouldn’t be there, but they both want this so much, so he pushes deeper.

“You okay, Stevie?” he asks, and Steve huffs out a breath, nods, grips Eddie’s hand where it’s at his hip. Eddie takes Steve’s hand with him as he wraps it over Steve’s stomach and chest, bringing them closer together.

“Eddie,” Steve says, “I wanted this all night.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, I dreamed about it,” Steve says, and Eddie can tell he’s smiling. “You were here, but my parents were downstairs. Oh, and you were older than me.”

“I am older than you,” Eddie says.

“By like, a few months,” he says, “and I graduated before you.”

Eddie growls and crushes Steve to his chest, fucking into him easily, feeling himself push into the clutch of Steve’s ass, so tight every time. He can hear his hips slapping Steve’s thighs, and he’s starting to lose himself, and this conversation isn't going to continue while he’s deep in Steve’s body, so close to coming every second.

“I wanna feel you come, Stevie,” he says, “Touch yourself for me.”

“Yeah,” Steve says, “Yeah, definitely,” and watching him jerk off is phenomenal, the way his breathing picks up and Eddie knows his eyes are clenching shut. Eddie’s hand slides up Steve’s arm and over his throat before returning to his hip, driving Steve down onto him.

It doesn’t take long. Steve is groaning, a long and low thing that tells Eddie he’s this close to the best feeling in the world, and there it is: Steve is coming in long spurts over his hand, and his body is seizing up around Eddie, who crushes his forehead into the nape of Steve’s neck and clenches his eyes shut. The feeling of Steve clenching around him, when he’s already so tight, just pushes him right over and Eddie groans, riding Steve wildly through the pulses of his orgasm. He hopes Steve feels the warmth of it, his come trapped in Steve’s body, pushed into him to keep him filled and wet with Eddie’s load until the next time they can do this.

Eddie is breathing hard into the space between them, still holding Steve close. Steve sweats so easily; the downy hair where his neck meets his back is beaded with sweat. He feels like he’s never seen anything as beautiful as Steve’s body, the way it looks when it’s with Eddie’s.

When he was younger, he thought he might meet someone playing Dungeons & Dragons, or at a concert. He threw himself into his interests, thinking if he did it hard enough, he’d become something that drew others to him–and repelled the wrong type of people away from him. After all, it was easier to be called a freak for those things than it was to be called poor, or trailer trash. After all that, maybe the kind of people who liked metal and Tolkein would just be drawn to him, moth to flame, and he’d finally be with people like him. He’d meet someone, and somehow, maybe he could have something like a boyfriend–even if it were secret, and he could never tell anyone, and it would just be them.

Instead, the darkness in him, the darkness in their town, it all came up and exploded all over everything, and almost killed him, but when he came up for air there was Steve, Steve with his own darkness, his own yearning, and no wonder it took something supernatural for him to find this kind of comfort with Steve fucking Harrington.

Their skin presses together, damp but cooling, their breathing returning to normal. Eddie slips out of him, softening. He feels the hot, damp come pooling between them where it leaks from Steve’s body, and part of him wants a way to keep it in there, just a way to stay within him longer.

“Everyone would know,” Steve says.

“Would know what?” Eddie asks, and wonders briefly, not for the first time, if Steve can read his mind a little bit.

“You said… you said if we were in school, and I was yours, nobody would know,” Steve says, and he swallows. “If we were back there.. I mean, if I could do it all again, I feel like everybody would know. I wouldn’t have wasted my time… There were a bunch of people who just didn’t care, who didn’t give a shit about me.”

“Fuck them,” Eddie says, and Steve laughs.

“I just wanna fuck you,” he says, “and if I could do it again, all of school, I’d just want to be with you. Friends, or whatever. Everyone would know we’re friends.”

“I’m more than your friend, Steve,” Eddie says, low, and he doesn’t miss the way Steve draws in to where their bodies touch–no matter how charming he is on the outside; he’ll always need Eddie to reassure him that this is what he really wants. Steve was the first one to kiss him, to cop to this thing they have between them, but you wouldn’t know it from how shy he can be, even like this. Eddie adds, “And you couldn’t pay me to go back there.”

“Even with me?” Steve asks, and it’s quiet. Eddie pauses.

“Maybe with you,” he says, “if everybody knew. God, damn. Maybe you could wear my shirts. Then everyone would know.”

“I don’t like Dio. Or Sabbath.”

“Don’t remind me,” Eddie says, “but maybe you could like Hellfire.”

“Doubtful,” Steve is laughing, like they didn’t get a little high last weekend and watch the cartoon movie of the Hobbit, like Steve wasn’t into it by the end.

“We’ll see,” Eddie says.

They get a little cleaned up and decide to hit a diner for food before Steve’s shift at the video store. Steve will probably order a full breakfast while Eddie nibbles at a grilled cheese and french fries. While Steve works, Eddie will sleep, and he’ll wake up with enough time in the day to maybe hit the arcade and see if Max wants a challenge on Space Invaders.

He has plans to see Steve, too, and if Steve falls asleep before Eddie has to be at work again he’ll do some thinking about the campaign, the one he holds in Steve’s living room now that he knows it’s always vacant, and that Steve always has money for pizza. It’s an excuse to have him around while Eddie does one of his favorite things, and he doesn’t have enough of those nowadays. Steve’s eye rolls, and objections, and the way he laughs when he’s around the kids. He’ll find an excuse. He’ll find a reason to keep him around, if it takes forever, if it takes his whole life.